


When a Wrench Just Won't Do

by ladydragon76



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Crack Edging Toward a Touch of Dark Humor, Hatchet on a Rampage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 06:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13630521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: Summary:Sunstreaker is not related to that mech.  He's not.  Look at him being not related at all.





	When a Wrench Just Won't Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlimReaper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimReaper/gifts), [Vintage_Mechanics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vintage_Mechanics/gifts).



> **'Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Characters:** Ratchet, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker  
>  **Warnings:** Hatchet on a Rampage, Crack Edging Toward a Touch of Dark Humor  
>  **Notes:** This probably isn't anywhere NEAR as funny as I think it is, but go look at [THIS PICTURE HERE](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/309478956497764373/411797433698222090/Capture_2018-02-10-02-05-43.png), and then read the ficcy, cuz I'm kinda laughing myself sick over it. Oh yeah, and you can either blame or thank Iopele/Slimreaper and Vintage-Mechanics for this. It's totally their fault. LOL!

Sunstreaker wasn't at all sure how it happened. One minute they were sitting, side by side, on the med berth -pretty standard post-battle event- Sideswipe teasing Ratchet -again, pretty standard. Sunstreaker wasn't really paying attention, and that was apparently his mistake, but that fragging 'Con had scuffed his thigh plating to hell and gone, and it was going to take more than a wash and polish to fix the mess even after Ratchet banged out the dents.

Then... Then suddenly Ratchet just... roared.

Incoherent. Loud. Rage and incandescent fury- _roared_!

Sunstreaker looked up to gape in shock, and he just wasn't fast enough when the medic reached for him.

Sideswipe -henceforth to be called Traitor, possibly Traitorous Coward but definitely not Brother or even Friend- dove off the med berth to flee, in a one-legged crawl across the - _dirty, filthy, ugh!_ \- floor even as Ratchet grabbed Sunstreaker's left ankle and lower leg.

Sunstreaker yelped, because even the best of the best could yelp when suddenly being _whipped_ from the berth by the mech supposed to be repairing them, and swung around like the hammer in a hammer throw competition. He would even forgive himself for the little, high-pitched, could-even-maybe-possibly-if-one-squinted-and-exaggerated-be-called-a-scream sound that escaped him as he went hurling through the air to smash right into Traitor's back.

Sunstreaker flopped and tumbled, denting and scraping more of his frame in the now silent -except for Ratchet's overtaxed, heaving vents- medbay. He looked up, ready to protest, but no, this was a battle he was far happier to be the weapon in than the enemy.

Traitorous Coward was _so_ on his own.

"You," Ratchet said, his voice low and dark, optics bled to white around the much-paled blue. "Are not. Even remotely. Funny."

"R-"

Ratchet slashed his hand through the air, and Sunstreaker had the great view from where he'd rolled to a halt to see every other mech flinch back at the motion. "Not. Funny."

Traitor looked prepared to protest for another half second before all that usual bravado and teasing bluster fell away. "I'm sorry, Ratch."

Ratchet's optics narrowed as he stared at Nope-Definitely-Not-My-Brother for another long, drawn out minute. The blue began to return to his optics, however, and when the medic looked at Sunstreaker, he managed not to cringe- just barely. "Table. Now."

Sunstreaker didn't bother with yes sirs, and scrambled to his feet to limp very quickly to the berth he'd so unintentionally vacated and sat on it ever so obediently and demurely. Look how well damn behaved he was. No relation to that freak over there on the floor. Nope. None. Not good Sunstreaker who _never_ wanted to be thrown across the medbay again, or... worse, hear Ratchet yell like that, or maybe worse still, feel that tremor in the medic's field as he stepped close and batted Sunstreaker's hands out of the way so he could look at his thigh. He worked silently, and very, very slowly conversation started back up- determined and with that hushed 'look how awkward we're totally not' vibe to it, and Sunstreaker reached up one hand, slowly, to rest over Ratchet's forearm.

Ratchet paused and looked up, still pale blue optics a bit wide.

Sunstreaker held his gaze for a moment, not really sure what it was Dumbo over on the floor had said, or why it had upset Ratchet so much as to actually follow through on his threat of beating them with one another, but he wanted the medic to know-

Wait.

Holy Primus.

Sunstreaker's lips twitched, and Ratchet blinked. That twitch grew to a smirk, then a grin, and Sunstreaker finally snickered. The silence was once again deafening as everyone stared while Sunstreaker's snickering grew quickly to full, deep, hilarity-fueled laughter.

"Better..." Sunstreaker might have wheezed a little. "Better than being t-turned into a toaster!"

Ratchet stared a moment, and then his lips quirked, just a little. "Glitched idiots," he grumbled, but that field tremor smoothed out, and his grumbling sounded just a touch fond as Sunstreaker gave up and called the bubbling sounds escaping his vocalizer the giggles they were. He'd deal with Traitor the Dumb and Obtuse later, but Ratchet was grinning, and Sunstreaker would take that over being toaster-fied _or_ slung across the medbay. Or Ratchet so upset.


End file.
